Distractions
by MiMiMargot
Summary: "Mello's eyes wandered to the redheaded boy sitting two rows in front of him. The long, slender fingers of Matt's left hand gripped on the pen, and he was tapping his thigh with his right hand. His feet in black sneakers moved restlessly under his chair. Matt's hair fell to his neck, to his ears on a way that made Mello feel weird in his belly - hot, billowy and empty."
1. Prologue

**Hey, I wrote a new prologue to this story, to kind of let you know what we're dealing with here.**

**So, basically, I only write stories that are super long and go throug EVERYTHING. So we start with the end, and then we go to the beginning. And we see how it all happened. **

**And, you should know that I can only write about love and suffering, heartbreak, death and sex, so that's what this fic will be about. A shitload of angst, and maybe some humor. Hope you enjoy it, and please, all feedback is appreciated. I live for your reviews.**

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Mello's heart is ripped out of his chest.

It is carved out, beating, raw, bloody, and all that is left in him, is a black hole, filled with emptiness, with _nothingness,_ that is heavy as lead and tastes like acid.

Matt is dead.

He's lying on the street, shot.

The cigarette has fallen from his lips.

His fur-coated west is on bullet holes and blood - Christ, Matt's blood, though Mello feels like it is his own, and it is staining everything. It stains Matt's pale face, his shirt, his jeans, Mello's soul. It's pooling on the pavement, taking everything, _everything_ with it.

Matt is dead, and he had to die alone.

That thought kills Mello.

Matt died alone. Fucking _alone_, thinking Mello didn't care, that Mello sent him to a suicide mission, to die - _to fucking die_ \- for no matter how an important cause. Yet the truth is, _nothing_ is as important as Matt, nothing, not even beating Near and winning this game.

He should've known that.

He should've protected the one thing - the only thing - he has ever loved.

And right there, watching the end of the world in a small, portable TV, the truck he had been driving now stopped on a dark, abandoned side street somewhere outside of Tokyo, Mello remembers.

He remembers everything.

It's like he's drawn through his life, drawn back to the years, the days, the seconds that were gone ages ago. Like this past decade just disappears, and he is a kid again. It all goes back to the beginning. His knuckles go white as he grabs the steering wheel, tears taste like acid and blood, and he feels like choking, but he remembers.

"_I fucking hate you." Matt breaths, but his hands say the opposite. They are in his hair now, and Matt rolls even closer, so that he is half on top of Mello now, his weight on Mello's chest and it is the sweetest feeling, it melts something in Mello, in his heart, in his gut, in his brain._

_I fucking hate you_

_I fucking love you._

_Without you, I am nothing._


	2. One of a kind

**So, here we go! We move some years back, to Mello's early teens. **

**I just wanted to say that I'd like for you to think at the Mello as he was in the scene in the Manga, where he learnt that L was dead. This is still time before the black leather and all that. I wanted to write a story about Mello's character development, as well as his lovestory with Matt. So bear with me, Mello is still a kid here - with the cute polka hair and simple clothes. He will grow to be the cocky, self confident wanna-be gangster with a killer fashion sence, we all love. It's gonna take some chapters to get there, though! **

**And please, review. **

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Mello had never thought of himself as being gay.

To be more correct, he had never thought of himself as a person who could have any interest in sex at all, no matter if it was with women, men, goats or aliens - he simply couldn't have given a fuck about it.

As far as he was concerned, sex was something that had the power to turn even the brightest of men into drooling idiots, and he sure as Hell had no plans to become a drooling idiot.

Mello's plans for life were very different, and they had three main goals.

First - to beat Near.

Second - to get the fuck out of Wammy's.

Third - to be the greatest detective in the world.

To achieve the goals he had set for himself, Mello was ready to give all he had, no matter how excruciatingly hard he had to work, how many late hours he had to sacrifice and suffer doing homework, reading, writing, burying himself in the endless ocean of books. To be the best - he would do it all, and more.

And because of that, there was no room for distractions.

Maybe that made Mello one of a kind in the universe. The only teenaged boy in the history of mankind who didn't give a fuck about fucking. Or maybe Mello would have been one of a kind anyways.

It was hard to tell.

In Wammy's house they were all one of a kind - especially Matt.

Mello's eyes wandered to the redheaded boy sitting two rows in front of him, scribbling notes on a paper. The long, slender fingers of Matt's left hand gripped on the pen, and with his other hand he was tapping a rhythm on the table. His feet in black sneakers shifted restlessly under his chair - the ADHD kid, never staying still. At least if he wasn't gaming, that is. If he had a gaming console in his hands, he could stay still and silent for hours, which always baffled Mello. But now Matt was anything but still, and every move he made, drew Mello's eyes to him like a magnet.

Matt's hair fell to his neck, to his ears on a way that made Mello feel weird in his belly. Hot and billowy and empty.

_Distraction. He shook his head. This is a fucking distraction and nothing else._

Mello bit on his pencil. The teacher in front of the room kept yadayading something that went right through Mello's head, as if it was nothing but buzzing of flies, wind in the trees. He gave a frustrated sigh. These lessons were waste of time as it was. He learnt better by himself anyways. What was the point of being taught by teachers, who had the IQ half of your own?

"...The happenings of the second world war in Japan lead to…."

Mello rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair. His gaze wandered to the windows, the thick, old glass windows they had in every room in Wammy's house. Outside it was spring, the sun was shining, and everything was so bright and green and fresh and beautiful, that it made Mello sick. He preferred the autumn. Then it was okay to dress in black and be gloomy. In the spring everyone expected you to be all happy happy joy joy because of the sunshine.

But Mello hated sunshine, for many reasons.

He hated it, because it burnt his pale skin, because it made wearing black uncomfortable, because it meant that yet again one year had passed from the spring he had been brought here, and here he still was, still in this shit hole, and nothing would ever change.

And he hated sunshine for the way it fell on Matt's hair, making it look like there was a fiery halo around his head. It drew Mello's eyes back on Matt, like he just couldn't help it.

He wondered how it would feel, to run his fingers through that hair.

_Oh for fuck's sake!_

Mello stood up in a swift motion, almost knocking over his chair, and gathered his things. His cheeks were burning, of being annoyed and of a feeling he couldn't - he wouldn't - name.

"Mello, the class isn't finished yet." stated the teacher, a middle aged woman with glasses, ugly clothes and a personality of pure boredom.

"It is for me." Mello snapped. "I wasn't learning anything here."

"There is a test coming next week. Are you sure you want to skip this last lesson—"

"I already said I wasn't learning a thing! This is a waste of my time. I'll get an A+ nevertheless."

"Do not make the mistake of thinking I will let this go, just because you are one of the best students in the class, Mello. I will notify Roger—"

"One of the bests?" Mello hissed, stopped and turned on his heels. "Try saying 'the best'. And I couldn't give a fuck who you'll be talking, cunt."

There was a gasp of shock from a couple of girls in the first row, the teacher went pale and her eyes narrowed. But Mello hardly noticed any of that. On his way to the door, his glance met Matt's. Matt had raised his silly goggles on his forehead and he had the sparkle of amusement in his green eyes. His lips, that were sucking on a pencil as if it was a cigarette, curled into a smile, that hit Mello in the stomach like a wrecking ball.

That only made Mello angrier. He didn't look back as he left, slammed the door behind him so that the doorframes rattled.

Fucking distractions!

Was it really too much to ask, that he could have been one of a kind?


	3. Brothers in Arms

It hadn't always been like this.

There had been a time when Matt's presence hadn't annoyed or burnt Mello like a flame in his gut. There had been a time, when they had been friends.

Matt was, in fact, the only friend Mello had ever had.

He had never been a popular kid, not even before Wammy's house. He had always been too much aware of the fact that he was way smarter than other kids - and other kids had always sensed that there was something amiss, something broken in Mello.

Most of the time, Mello hadn't really cared. He had preferred to be alone anyways. If there was one thing that he had learnt in his short life before Wammy's, it was that people will always hurt you and they will always let you down.

So, better to trust no one. Better to be alone.

There were people he looked up to, sure. Like L - but he was way too old and way too peculiar to be called a friend.

And there were people Mello tolerated. Like Fay, who always brought chocolate, and Watari who treated Mello as if he was an adult, not like the kid his years indicated.

And then there were people Mello despised. Like Near. Just the thought of Near's fluffy hair and his infuriating coolness made Mello's brain boil.

But friends? Those he had never had - except for Matt.

It had begun the day Matt had arrived in Wammy's house - just an ordinary Tuesday afternoon - but that ordinary Tuesday had became a turning point in Mello's life. The day that marked the line between before and after. Before, was his lonely, bitter existence in Wammy's house, days and nights filled with studying and nothing more. And after - after, there was Matt. There was laughter, there were pranks they played on the others together, there was Matt sneaking out in the middle of the night to smoke a stolen cigarette, there was Matt sitting silently in Mello's room, when he had one of his migraines and the pain was slicing his head like a knife.

He didn't know how it had happened. That he had let Matt break his shell, and to see him - the real him - when he had been so careful never show it to anyone. But there was simply something about Matt that had called to Mello since the day one.

Maybe it was the way he just didn't seem to give a fuck about anything. It called to Mello, like light calls to a moth.

He admired Matt for it, his ability not to care.

For Mello himself, had always been one to care too much, to love too deeply, to feel more emotion than his slender frame could handle.

But Matt - he seemed to take life as it was, and not crave for more.

It was extraordinary. It was curious. It was intoxicating.

Since the day one, it had been settled. Where Mello went, Mat followed. And so it had been for years, they had been partners in crime, they had been Bonnie and Clyde and Thelma and Louise, they had been a duo that had brought havoc and outrage throughout Wammy's and ended up in Watari's office more times than Mello cared to count for.

Mello felt his lips curving to a crooked smile, remembering some of their best moments.

Like when they had switched sugar for salt in L's personal sugar bowl in the breakfast table.

Or when they had stolen Watari's glasses and hidden them in the drawer where Fay kept her underwear.

Or when they had used their few pennies to smuggle porn mags to Wammy's and replaced the pages of Near's school books with those of Playboy and Penthouse.

It had always been so, that Mello was the one to come up with the idea, and Matt followed to execute the plan, to perfection. And they had been flawless together. Brothers in arms, the two musketeers, a match made in heaven. Up until this goddamned spring of Mello's 14th year of existence, when everything had begun to _change_.

He sat on his bed, staring at the wall and the self loath - no, the _disgust_ \- was eating him alive.

He couldn't shake the memory of sunlight in Matt's hair. Of Matt's slender fingers gripping on the pen, his black sneakers moving under the his chair.

Mello was far from stupid. He knew what this meant.

_All you have worked for. All, and for nothing. You're no better than the rest of them._

_A drooling idiot._

He clenched his fists, dug his fingernails deep into his palms, to drive away the haunting thoughts, the agonizing images, but it did no good. Matt was in his head, as he had been since the day one, and there was no driving him away.


	4. Rays of Light

**Please, tell me what you think of my Matt and Mello. I appreciate your reviews sooo much! **

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**Four years ago.**

The boy stood right in front of the sun, so that he was nothing but a black silhouette.

Mello squinted, to see better. Slowly he came into focus. A boy about his age, wearing a pair of loose jeans and a plain, red T-shirt, with hair that was an undisciplined halo of red mane around his head.

Mello's whole body tensed with irritation. He was used to being left alone. The kids around here knew better than to come and disturb him.

But then again, this boy wasn't a Wammy's kid. He was someone else.

"Who the hell are you?" Mello snapped. "And what the fuck do you want?"

The other boy shrugged, stuffed his hands into his pockets.

"I just got here." he said. "The old dude said you'd be my roommate."

"_A roommate?_" Mello sat up. "I don't do roommates. I live alone."

"I guess not anymore. The old dude-"

"Roger or Watari?"

"The fuck do I know." the boy shrugged. "Watari, I guess? He had glasses."

"They both have glasses." Mello sighed and rolled his eyes. "What are you, an idiot?"

"Hey, I just got here." The boy sat down on the grass, a few feet away from Mello. He was way too close. Looking way too comfortable. And way too unaffected by Mello's mean words.

That was new.

But still - a roommate? Mello made a mental note to strangle Watari for this. He lived alone. Always had. And that was the way he was about to keep it.

"Get lost." he said to the new boy. "There's no way I'm sharing my room with you."

"Can we like talk about that later?" the boy said. "Besides, we're outside. This aint your room, so I aint gonna go nowhere."

Mello closed his eyes, and counted to ten. He felt the familiar desire to punch that kid in the face and make him _hurt_. But at the same time there was something else. He couldn't deny, that he liked the feeling that the new boy wasn't afraid of him. Everyone had been afraid of him for such a long time, that Mello had almost forgot how it felt to be around people who weren't.

"Fine." Mello finally replied. "You can stay. But only if you shut up."

"Geeh - aren't you a Mr. Sunshine." The boy muttered.

Mello didn't reply. He closed his eyes, felt the shadows of the canopy moving on his face. The wind on the grass, on his hair was cool and silent, and Mello felt drifting away. He felt his constantly restless mind slowly calming down. The silence - it was the best thing in the whole world. He just couldn't get enough of it.

And just then it was interrupted again.

"Where are you from?"

"_I told you to be quiet_."

"Come on, I was. For like five minutes."

"Not more than two minutes." Mello snapped. "And why do you care anyways?"

"No reason. Just wanted to know."

"I am sure we're _not_ supposed to talk about that." Mello replied with a snarl.

"Yeah? And I'm sure you don't always do as you're supposed to."

That earned a small laugh from Mello, before he could stop it. Damn, that new kid wasn't stupid.

"Fine, I don't." he admitted. "You?"

"I'm from Portsmouth."

"That's not what I asked."

"I know." the other boy said and grinned. "I'm Matt, by the way."

"Geeh, I hope you didn't just tell me your _real _name."

"What, you think I'm that stupid? I gathered there's a reason they gave me this bogus name."

"If you were stupid, you wouldn't be here." Mello stated, drily. "I'm sure they did the tests on you."

Matt didn't say anything to that. Instead he changed the subject, as if bored already. He was pulling grass from the ground, his hands all the time restless, in contrast to his pose that was still cool, relaxed.

"You've been here long?" he asked.

"Why do you wanna know that?"

"'Cause you already know my name, and that I'm from Portsmouth and I don't know a shit about you."

Mello felt another smile on his lips. Weird. He didn't remember when was the last time he'd smiled before this.

"Well, you know I don't always do as I'm supposed to."

"And that you're a smart-ass."

"Shut up."

"You shut up, smarty."

That made Mello sit up and take a closer look at the boy sitting by his side. He sure wasn't used to being talked like that. The kids in Wammy's house knew well enough to stay out of Mello's way and to leave him be. They knew his wrath could burn them. But this new boy just sat on the grass, looking all mellow and bored and as if he had no worries in the world. Which was pretty much insane, because he must have been an orphan.

It didn't bother Mello, though. He liked insane.

"I've been here for two years." he noted. "I was brought here when I was eight."

"You a foreigner? You kinda sound like you are."

"None of your business-" said Mello, and lay back down on the grass. "-Matt, from Portsmouth."

"So, this place weird or what?"

Mello rolled his eyes.

"You wouldn't know."

"Is this like the 'Xavier's school for gifted youngsters' or something like that?"

"Oh God, don't tell me you're into that superhero shit."

"Don't tell me you're into God." Matt replied. "It's basically just as stupid."

That was a comment that would have earned a punch - but somehow Mello didn't feel like it. He simply pulled out the crucifix he always wore around his neck, and let it hang loosely from his fingers. Against the sun it looked black and huge and it weighed more than an ordinary necklace, as always.

"There are many things beyond our sight or understanding." he stated silently. "It is hardly stupidity to believe that."

"Then this _is_ like the X-Mansion." The redhead said. "I knew it!"

"Don't get too excited." Mello tucked the rosary back under his shirt. "The only superpower you'll find here is the power to be bored out of your fucking mind."

"Oh. That I am already."

"Then you'll fit right in." Mello replied. "There's hardly anything else extraordinary in this institution."

"And the super high IQ?"

"That too." Mello agreed. "And I should warn you that the competition is bad."

"Yeah? Well I don't give a fuck about that. School isn't really my thing."

That made Mello take another, long look of Matt. His posture was still as relaxed as it had been, he was picking grass and his red hair fell to his forehead, almost hiding his strikingly green eyes.

"School's not your thing?" Mello asked. "You sure you're in the right place?"

"They came for me. It's not like I applied to be here."

"Sounds familiar." Mello said, sitting up as well. "So, if not a reader, then what are you?"

"A gamer."

"Jesus. A gamer and a geek." Mello let out an exasperated sigh. "And they made you my pain in the ass?"

"Don't get too excited."

"I'm _not_." Mello stated. "Anything else you dig than games?"

"Computers. Technology."

"Oh. You're _that_ kind of a genius." Mello rolled his eyes. If he'd have to pick, he'd choose book over a game any day, a library over a computer.

"And what's that supposed to mean, smart-ass?"

"Stop calling me smart-ass, or I'll punch you in the face."

"Fine, brainiac."

"You've been warned." Mello snarled. "That's more than most people get."

"You want me to stop calling you names, you'd better tell me what to call you."

A short silence. Mello pondered on his options, and finally decided to give in. It wasn't like that new boy wouldn't learn his name anyways, and coming from him it could be a positive thing.

Maybe he could use an ally.

Or a roommate. Even if it was a gamer and a geek.

Mello turned his eyes to the redheaded boy.

"My name is Mello."

"And you're from…?"

"That's pushing your luck, ginger."

Matt laughed. He had a nice laughter, one that made you feel like he was laughing with you - not at you. Mello had had enough people laughing at him, to know the difference.

The sun was high on the sky, it scattered through the canopy, the fragmented rays of light mixed with darker shadows moved on Matt's skin and Mello noticed a flock of freckles on his face. It made him look cheeky and undisciplined. Both things that Mello liked.

Maybe it was stupid to make the decision based on laughter and freckles, but he couldn't help himself. He stood up, brushed the grass off the knees of his black jeans.

"Come on." he said, tilting his head. "I'll show you around."

"Cool." said Matt with a grin. "Lead on."

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**...and please, review!**


	5. Gameboy

Ten minutes after Mello had left the class, there was a knock on his door.

Or their door, more precisely. They were still roommates. Technically Matt didn't need to knock - but in reality he did. He was too ADHD to ever remember to take his key, and Mello was too paranoid to leave the door unlocked.

Mello gave an exasperated sigh and opened the door, just wide enough to see Matt's face, but not wide enough to let him enter.

"What do you want?" he asked, giving Matt a stare that would've scared a lesser man witless.

"To get in my room?"

"I want to be alone."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously. Get lost."

This was hardly the first time Mello told Matt to beat it, that he needed his space, that he needed to be alone. It had been practically the first thing he had told Matt when they'd first met four years ago, under the big oak tree in the garden, on a sickeningly beautiful spring day, just as this one.

Since then Matt had gotten used to Mello's sulky, ever changing moods and his need for solitude - just as Mello had gotten used to Matt's constant gaming and idle prattling.

But this time Matt was persistent. He was always like that when he knew Mello was hiding something from him. Mello reckoned it was Matt's cocky nature that just couldn't take it, that Mello had secrets from him.

_Oh brother, if you only knew how many I've kept from you. _

"Come on, it's my room too. It's not like you own this place." Matt's words brought Mello back to the moment.

He sighed, rolled his eyes.

"Just get the fuck out of here, Matt."

"Why, exactly?"

"I need to study."

"That's what you're doing?" Matt grabbed the door and pulled it wider. He glanced around in the room, clearly noticing there weren't any books or papers around. "Doesn't look like it."

"For fuck's sake! I need to _think_. And I can't do that when you're disturbing me."

"Oh. I can be quiet."

"Yeah. Like for two minutes."

Matt gave a small, sideways grin.

"I won't bother you, Mells. Let me in."

Mello exhaled slowly and leaned on the door frame.

"Come on, _Matts_. Since when do we have to be together _all the time? _Just beat it, I need my silence."

"And I'm bored out of my mind! I wanna do something, go somewhere—"

_Oh, I want to do something too, alright. I want to kiss you, on the lips, so that you would shut the fuck up, and -_

"Just—" he groaned. "Just leave me alone. Please. Can you do that?"

But Matt had already walked in, ignoring Mello's pleas. He took a seat on the floor, pulled a portable gaming console from his pocket, and started playing. Soon the annoying beeping sounds of the game filled the room, and slithered into Mello's nervous system like insects.

He hated it.

And yet, he loved to look at Matt, when his concentration was in the game. In the small screen, the moving pixels that meant nothing to Mello, that he couldn't have cared less about, but that spoke to Matt in a way Mello could never understand. He loved to watch Matt's slender fingers, their smooth, swift movement on the controls, the way Matt bit his lower lip when the game got difficult, the way he could stay still for hours, for as long as the battery held - the boy who never could stay still, not for a half a minute, not without a game in his hands or a computer screen on his face.

"You're fucking annoying, you know?" Mello stated, slamming the door.

"And you're fucking cranky." Matt noted, never turning his eyes off the game. "You're cranky all the time lately. What's the deal with that?"

"I'm not."

"You are."

"Well if I am, it's your fault."

"Gee, thanks." Matt replied. "I love you too, bro."

_I love you too._

Meant as an insult, but still those words went straight to Mello's stomach. They were a punch in his gut, they were a dagger in his windpipe.

Matt's hair fell to his forehead, his gaze was fixed on the console and he didn't see how Mello's cheeks flushed, he didn't notice the shame in Mello's eyes, as he turned his back on Matt.

Mello took a deep breath, then grabbed a book from a nearby table - his hands still shaking ever so lightly.

"I need to study." he snapped. "Turn the volume off."

"Yes, _dad_."

"And stop that."

"Sure _boss_."

"Christ, I'll kick you out. I swear I will."

To that, Matt's only reply was a low chuckle,

"Geez, stop bitching. You got your period or what?"

Mello threw himself on the bed, opened the book - and kept staring at Matt.

T-shirt, loose jeans, sneakers. Red hair, lots of freckles, sharp jawline. There was nothing extraordinary in his looks. Nothing special. He was just a guy. And still - looking at him felt like standing on the pavement in front of the chocolate shop, knowing you couldn't afford to buy a thing.

For a moment Mello let himself to imagine walking to Matt, taking that stupid Gameboy off his grasp and throwing it to the trash can. Kneeling by his side on the floor, laying his hand on Matt's shoulder, and-

_And then what?_

Mello's cheeks flushed, and he turned his eyes away.

He had no fucking idea what it was that he wanted. _No fucking idea. _But the wanting sat in his chest and made it hard to breath, burnt in his throat suffocating him.

Of all the books he had ever read in the fourteen years and six months of his existence, not one had prepared him for this.

How do you tell your best friend that you want him to be your lover?

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**Well, isn't that the problem? :D Haha, I love these teenagers and their hormones. Tell me what you thought, and what you want to read about! I could use some ideas. **


	6. Rosary

**I've been a bit uninspired lately. Here's a little flashback to you, guys. Hope you like it, and if you do, please let me know.**

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Mello is four years old, when his father beats him up with a belt and a hanger.

It isn't the first time he does it, but it is the worst.

After, lying on his bed, on his stomach, Mello buries his face into the pillow and swallows every bitter tear, every cry of pain that wants to escape his trembling lips. He hates the pain. He hates the fear. But even more, he hates his own weakness.

"Mihael..." his mother's voice is barely audible, nothing more than a shaky whisper.

Mello doesn't answer. Couldn't even if he wanted to. It takes all his strength not to cry.

"Mihael, I…" she breathes, and takes a seat on the bed.

Mello flinches, the pain making him gasp. He clenches his fist, tastes the copper of blood, the salt of tears, the steel of fear.

"No-!" he gasps, feeling his mother's touch on his whipped back.

"Hush, sweetie. I have to clean these."

"Please, don't-"

And the pain cuts through his sentence, making him cry out and he can't hold back the tears anymore. He clenches his fist and bites the pillow, every muscle, every sinew in his small, too slender body going tight, stretched. His nerves are in fire.

The torment caused by his mother's aid, her gentle hand wiping the wounds clean with a moist cloth, is more than his body can take. The darkness of his closed eyelids is burning with the flames of pain, and he feels falling, falling into the pit where nothing exists but this unbearable moment that goes on forever and ever and he'll never be free.

But eventually, it does end.

He hasn't fallen. He is not in the pit of Hell. And there is no demon sitting on the bed by his side - it is still his mother, her gentle hand now stroking his hair that is moist of sweat and blood and water.

"What did you do this time?" she asks silently.

Mello doesn't reply.

What _has _he done?

He doesn't know. He never knows. And that is the worst part of it. It isn't something he does, not really. It is something he is - like there is something wrong in his soul, in his essence, that his father just can't stand. That needs to be beaten out of him.

And Mello knows it must be something bad, for father is always telling him, he'll end up in Hell.

"I've told you not to anger him." Mother's voice breaks into Mello's mind. "I've told you to stay out of his way when he's like this."

"Don't anger the dragon." Mello whispers.

"Yes, Mihael. Don't anger the dragon."

There is a long silence. It is only filled with the steady tic-toc of the old grandfather clock in the corner, eating time slowly with it's rusty hands. Mother's hand keeps silently stroking the silky, golden strands of Mello's hair.

The wallpaper by his bed is old and worn, in many parts the pattern broken by ruptures in the wall, rips in the paper. Still the vines with green and silver leaves, with blooming roses, creep up towards the ceiling. Mello follows the patterns with his eyes, too weary, too shaken to move a finger to follow them - as he usually does when lying in the bed exhausted but too scared to fall asleep.

"He says I'm going to Hell." Mello breaths.

There is a silence, Mother's hand stills in his hair.

"You will not." she finally replies. "You are my little angel, and angels don't go to Hell."

"You promise?"

"I promise." she sighs. "Let me get the rosary. I will pray with you."


	7. Darkness

**Ah, I'm so happy with this chapter! I hope you like it too. If you do, please review - I can honestly say that I had already given up writing this fic, but then I got a review that encouraged me to continue. So if you want to read - review. Simple as that.**

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Mello hardly ever had nightmares anymore.

It hadn't always been the case, though. There had been a time when he had woken up almost every night, covered in sweat, his heart kicking his ribs in a fast, desperate rhythm.

Things had gotten a lot better after Matt had became his roommate. Apparently, it only took Matt's peaceful snoring to calm Mello down, to lull his subconscious into believing he had dealt with all the demons of his past.

But tonight Mello dreamed.

The dream started, as it always did. It was always the same, and even if he knew it was a dream, it hardly mattered, for there was no way to wake up, no way to change what had happened, what he had done, what he had became.

No way to change the history. His story.

* * *

Mello is standing on the front porch of his childhood home. The house looks as it always does, a plain, small wooden house. No paint, simple, small windows, old, weather worn walls that should have been repainted decades ago, but haven't been. Nothing memorable in this house, and still, Mello remembers every detail of it. It is his whole world. He has seen little else of this world, the three small rooms of this house have become his whole universe, it's dark corners his safe havens, it's shadows the shape of his soul.

It is August, Mello's favorite time of the year. The fields around the gray, little house are painted with all the shades of gold and yellow in the rich afternoon light. Mello loves those fields, even if they mean endless work too. He loves to run and hide amongst the stalks of wheat. When he crouches down, the wheat is taller than he is. The world diminishes into the rays of sun scattering through the golden leaves, the sound of the wind in the plants around him.

But now there is no time to play.

Mello turns his eyes off the fields, to the front door, that hangs open.

Inside it's dark, cold, even if it's August. Funny, he thinks, for in the Great Book it is said, that Hell is hot, that your soul is burnt into ashes there, but now Mello knows better. He knows Hell is no fiery pit. It is a never ending ice cellar, it is cold darkness and fear that freezes your insides, until everything in you has turned to ice, and there is nothing left to feel.

His heart is beating fast, but his feet are slow, sticky on the floor planks, as he enters the house, and his bare feet absorb the coldness, it spreads into his legs like a disease. He's only seven years old, and he is scared. A big part of him wants to just turn away, to run to the fields, but he knows he can't do that. He has to walk inside, walk into this Hell, and see what he already knows will be there.

It is so silent inside. The only sound Mello's uneven breathing, his soft footsteps on the floor. The kitchen is silent, not a kettle on the stove, even if it's soon dinner time. Mother isn't where she's supposed to be, where he is used to seeing her, cooking, singing hymns while working, never too busy to give Mello a small smile with her sad eyes, a piece of fresh bread when she notices him watching her.

If father isn't home, that is. When he is home, mother is different too. It is like she shrinks in his presence, like he is so big, so tall that he takes up all the space in the room, even if he really isn't that tall at all. When the Dragon is home, mother is a mouse - and mice don't sing or smile.

Father isn't home now, though, and Mello knows it. He's out in the city, and when he will come back, he will be loud and rude, and there will be a beating again. It is always like that in days like these, unless Mello has found a good enough hiding place.

But now Mello isn't going to hide.

He needs to walk through the kitchen, into the bedroom.

He can taste it in the air now, on his lips. The wrongness. Like a piece of the world is missing, a piece of the puzzle of his life lost. It tastes like vinegar, and makes him nauseous and light headed, so that he can hardly breath.

The bedroom door is heavy, it is hard to open. There is a fallen chair on the floor behind it, blocking Mello's way in, but he pushes with force and manages. On the other side of the door, mother hangs from a rope, her dead weight bumping against the wooden door, her bare feet bluish, almost purple, reaching for the floor that they can never meet again.

* * *

Mello fell off the dream, the scream stuck in his throat, tears on his cheeks.

His heart was racing, trying to shatter his rib cage, break free through his sternum. On his lips he could still taste the wrongness, vinegar and steel.

"Mells, it's okay." a familiar voice in the darkness. "Wake up!"

He blinked, licked his teeth like a scared animal. The dream hadn't completely let go of him, it never did. It was always there, lurking in the shadows, just waiting to pierce through his mind. Mother's blue face, her dead eyes, staring at Mello and seeing nothing. It was so dark, and under the sheets Mello's feet were still cold, frozen, contaminated.

"Mello, do you hear me?"

He inhaled, sat up. He was in his room, in his bed. And that voice-

"Matt." he managed. "Yeah. Fuck… A nightmare."

There was a moment of silence. Matt was sitting on Mello's bed, looking pale and worried in the moonlight that entered the room through the curtains.

"Which one?" he asked.

"The worst."

"The one with… your mom?"

Mello couldn't answer, he couldn't meet Matt's eyes. A sharp nod was all he could manage, his hair falling to his eyes.

"Oh." Matt made a small sigh. "That sucks."

"It's nothing. Just a damn dream."

But he knew Matt could see through his words. Matt, who had woken up to his nightmares countless of times, the only person Mello had ever told what exactly was it, that sent him screaming in the middle of the night, year after year after year.

"Hey." Matt said, laid his hand gently on Mello's arm. "I get it. It's fine."

Mello looked at Matt, to his eyes that he knew were green, but in the moonlight everything about Matt was black and white, his eyes pale and piercing and gentle. And suddenly his affection cut right through Mello's chest like a spear in his sternum, and Matt's hand on his bare arm was everything he could think of.

Matt, sitting on his bed, his hair a mess, wearing nothing but his pajama pants.

Mello couldn't help it. He was drawn to Matt, like he was iron and Matt was a magnet, and he felt the tug deep in his core. His lips opened, and before he could stop himself, they were on Matt's mouth and he inhaled Matt's surprised gasp.

Matt tasted like toothpaste. His lips were soft, so goddamned soft and hot, and Mello had never known it felt like _this_, to kiss someone. That it wasn't gross or weird at all, but it was hot and wonderful and a buzzing beehive inside of his chest.

Matt froze, but only for a heartbeat. And then, his lips opened, they tasted Mello's mouth, hesitant, scared even, but they returned the kiss and something in Mello lit up. He breathed into the kiss, breathed in Matt's breath, tasted Matt's tongue, his hands were in Matt's hair, pulling him closer, his fingers buried deep in Matt's rough, untamed mane.

"Mello-" Matt groaned into the kiss, his voice weird, thick, like it got stuck in his throat.

"Don't… don't talk-"

Their lips, greedy and hungry, melted together. Matt's taste of peppermint toothpaste went straight to Mello's head, made him intoxicated. He had never been drunk, but he had a hunch it would feel like this. Like time stopped, and he was falling.

Like he was a moth and Matt was a flame, and he was flying straight into it.

_A drooling idiot!_

That thought suddenly broke into Mello's mind, and gasping he broke the kiss.

He was breathing hard, his chest heaving. Even in the dark Mello saw Matt's dilated pupils, his flushed cheeks.

Every inch of his soul needed to pull Matt back to a kiss, but he resisted. He pushed that urge deep into the darkest corner of his mind, into the shadows, where it belonged.

"Get off my bed." Mello said silently. "Now."

Matt flinched, as if he'd been hit.

"But-"

"Didn't you hear me? Get off my bed!"

He hadn't mean to raise his voice, but it just happened. The last words were an angry hiss. Matt's eyes widened, and he stood up, hesitant, hurt.

Mello couldn't bare to look at him. He rolled to his side, facing the wall, he pulled the sheets over his head. His body all tense, like a string, he waited until he finally heard how Matt turned on his heels and walked away from him.


	8. Silence

**Hey, sorry I've been absent! I do appreciate all the feedback you've given me. Thank you so much, and please enjoy this new chapter. **

* * *

"So, are we gonna talk about what happened last night?"

Matt's words startled Mello. They were in their room, after classes, and Mello was solving quite a challenging math problem - or more likely, he had been _trying_ to solve a math problem, before Matt's words brought all about last night back to his mind.

Now, of course, that was impossible.

"No." he replied sharply, not looking up from his text book.

"I think we should." Matt didn't look at him either, only his gaming console, which was actually a relief.

"No, we shouldn't."

"Dude, you kissed me."

"And I said we're not going to talk about it."

There was a silence, filled only with the sounds of Matt's stupid game.

"Fine." Matt finally said, still not looking at Mello. "Just thought you should know that I'm gay."

Mello's heart jumped to his throat.

The silence between them felt like a living thing now, something that sucked up the oxygene from the air, leaving Mello breathless.

He knew he should answer something - soon now, before the silence took away more than just his breath, before Matt would look up from his game and see the truth written all over his face - but the sharp, sassy words that usually lived on Mello's lips ready to spring out, were now lost, stuck deep in his gut, and he felt helpless.

"Dude, didn't you hear me?" Matt stated.

"Heard you." Mello replied.

"And?"

"And I really don't care Matt. You can lust whatever you want to and I don't give a fuck about it."

"Fine, whatever." Matt glanced at him, over the gaming console, his red hair falling to his eyes on a way that made Mello weak on the knees.

The silence that lingered in the room, was the kind that felt awkward - unlike the silences they had shared before. Mello felt this one crawling under his skin, making him restless, and he desperately wanted for it to stop, for the sounds of the game to stop, for him to be able to forget how Matt's lips had felt on his own, how Matt's tongue had tasted of peppermint toothpaste, and how it had sent sparks to Mello's spine, made his throat dry.

_A drooling idiot!_

Angry and frustrated, he ran his fingers through his blond hair. It was pointless to try and study now, his concentration - what had been left of it - was ruined.

With a swift, agile leap, he stood up from the bed and was at the door, before Matt's words reached him.

"Hey, where you going?"

"Out." Mello replied, and slammed the door behind him.

* * *

"I want a new room. A single one."

Roger raised his eyebrows, took a long look at Mello over his glasses. Not for the first time, Mello hoped Watari would be here instead of Roger. He had always preferred Watari, his way of treating Mello as if he was an adult, how he had respected Mello and all his weird habits. But Roger - he just didn't get Mello.

"There aren't any rooms available." Roger replied.

"There are. I know there are empty rooms in the third floor."

"Those we have to keep unvacant, in case some new children come here. You know that."

"I need a room _now_, and I am _here_. It is not fair, that I have to share a room, when there is plenty of space-"

"Mello, calm down." Roger interrupted him. "Sit down, and tell me what this is really all about. You have shared a room with Matt for…"

Mello rolled his eyes.

"-Four years."

"Yes, four years. And now, suddenly, you don't want to do that anymore?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"He is insufferable."

"Oh." Roger raised his eyebrows. "How so?"

"I can't concentrate on my studies. His gaming is annoying."

"Hmm." The older man leaned back in his chair. "Yet this has been the case for the past years as well. How come this is only bothering you now?"

"Am I L's heir or not?" Mello snapped, his voice a sharp dagger. "Am I not the number one kid in Wammy's house?"

"You and Near both, yes."

As much as the mention of Near's name bothered Mello, he didn't let it show. Only the burning of his cheeks betrayed his emotion. How much he had worked to beat Near, to be the number one, the ONLY number one! And now it would all be lost, because of Matt, and the way he drove Mello nuts with his presence.

Taking a deep breath, Mello continued his pursue.

"Even so, to be that, I must have peace. I must have my silence. If I am to be the greatest detective in the world, I cannot have distractions."

"For that we have libraries. We have study rooms. But a room of your own-"

"I had one. Before."

"Yes. We had fever kids back then. More space."

Mello glared at Roger, ice in his stare, fire in his bloodstream.

"You should know I always get what I want." he stated, leaning on Roger's desk. "One way or another."

"Mello, really-"

But Mello was already at the door, out of the room in a heartbeat.

Too bad that the old fool was so stubborn, but Mello wasn't going to leave things like this. Living with Matt after last night was impossible, that much was certain.

If Roger wasn't going to give him a room of his own, there were other ways.

* * *

**And please, write a review. :)**


	9. August

**I'm home, sick with a flu and I have nothing to do but write. :D I hope you enjoy this chapter, I really enjoyed writing it. And please, please, write a review for me - it means the world to me.**

* * *

**Four months later:**

Mello lay on the cold, wooden floor and stared at the ceiling.

In the darkness it looked like it was a thousand miles away, like it melted into shadows and maybe if he stared at it for long enough, so would he.

It was the 31st of August, though in less than 30 minutes the sound of the old grandfather clock at Wammy's dining room, would chime through the walls, the 12 beats that meant this wretched day was finally over, this wretched month, this wretched summer.

Once August had been Mello's favourite month. That had been when he'd been just a kid - when fields of gold had been his world, wind and insects his best friends.

That time was now long gone of course, so long gone that it felt like it had all been in another life, someone else's life, not his. Mother's death had taken all that away from him. Innocence, golden fields, home and love. It had turned August from being his favourite month, into reliving a nightmare year after year after year. For even if now that Mello thought about mother's death, and he realized it had not been the end, but the beginning, it still felt like he was carving out his own heart, beating, bloody and raw.

And of course, there was other stuff.

Stuff that hurt more than the tragedies that had happened in another lifetime - even if Mello hardly wanted to admit that.

He rolled to his side, feeling the coldness, the hardness of floor planks under his bony body. He had grown a good bit this summer, and now the sleeves of his simple, black shirt were too short, his black jeans probably too, but he couldn't have cared less. The coldness crept from the floor to his bare toes, but he did nothing to stop it.

_Let it come. Let it freeze me to my soul and maybe this will all be over someday._

He closed his eyes, not to see the shadows, but they were in his mind nevertheless.

* * *

He is just a boy.

And mother is gone.

The Dragon has dragged mother out of the house, dragged her with the same rope that is tied around her neck, dragged her to the back yard and ditched her into a hole in the ground he made Mello dig with a heavy, iron shovel.

Now it is the next morning - or not yet morning, but soon it will be - and Mello is still sitting outside, staring at the shadows, at the mound on the spot where he shoveled dirt on mother's blue and purple toes, her bony, bare legs, her crumpled nightgown, her face - oh, her face - her bluish cheeks and lifeless eyes and her lips that are peeled back to reveal her teeth and gums that are also blue.

Mello shivers in the cold, and it is not the coldness of the early morning, it is the coldness of his soul dying.

At first he was afraid, but not anymore. It is like even fear dies, when you are tired enough, when you have lost enough. Now the only feelings that live inside Mello's chest are sorrow - so deep and dark that it takes his breath away - and rage.

He is beginning to think, that he likes rage a lot more than sorrow.

Sorrow is what flows through his veins when he thinks about the fact that mother won't be there to make him breakfast. Not this morning, and not ever again. She will never brush his hair with her fingers. She will never kiss him on the cheeks and tuck him in the bed, not ever again, and thinking about that makes Mello feel like he's been hit on the gut and he can't take it.

But rage, is another matter.

He knows he's just a boy, and that he's tiny even for his age of seven years. But rage is bigger than him, and it makes him feel taller too.

It is what he feeds on, when the first rays of sun emerge in the horizon. And the rage in his veins is like his own, personal sun that can burn away everything else, his sorrow, his loss, this house, these memories, everything.

He thinks about father, the Dragon, like he was yesterday. Drinking vodka from a cheap plastic bottle, standing over the grave Mello was digging. Cursing, spitting ugly words from his mouth like vomit. Telling Mello that his mother was going to Hell, that she was a whore, nothing but trash, a slut that was now burning in Hell for her sins. And that she never loved them, never loved Mello, never respected the Dragon as she should have, that she was a whore - _a whore_ \- a piece of shit who deserved to die and that if she hadn't killed herself then he would have done that for her.

_For it is better that she is gone. Right, Mihael, right? It is better it's just the two of us now._

_Yes, sir,_ he answered. _Yes, sir._

_She never loved me. She never loved you! You... you aren't even my son. Your mother opened her legs to everyone, slutted her ass around the town, and now she's done the worst and left me with you… a bastard._

With those words he grabbed the shovel from Mello and hit him with it, once, twice, three times, so hard that he was lucky no bones were broken. If there was blood, he hardly felt it. The words his father spat at him hurt more than any cut, any bruise he caused.

These words are buried in Mello's ears, in his hands, in his whole, tiny body and they burn inside of him so that he cannot feel the cold, no matter that his spine is shivering.

_If I am not his son, I owe him nothing. _

_I am no dragonspawn. _

That thought brings Mello strength, and he draws from it, enough to finally stand up. He rises, as the sun rises above the horizon, he walks inside the house, finds his father's firearm - an old soviet pistol - walks to the bedroom with it. The dragon is snoring in his lair, smelling foul, of vodka, of hate, of smoke and filth. Mello walks around the bed, and takes mother's rosary from the bedside table, stuffs it deep in his pocket. The pistol is heavy for him to lift, but his hands don't even shake as he raises the gun and pulls the trigger.

* * *

Mello snapped out of the memory, just as the sound of the clock in the dining room, two stories under him, echoed to his room.

He felt raw, beaten - like his father had the capacity to reach through time and struck him with the shovel again. Mello winced at the memory, tried to push it to the back of his mind, but couldn't.

His father. That word brought foul taste to Mello's mouth. As he had grown older it had become obvious that every word the Dragon had spat on him about him being a bastard, had been a lie. Whenever Mello looked at the mirror nowadays, he saw all too clearly the features of his father. The narrow built, the slender shoulders, the sharp jaw, the blond hair. Even if he wanted to, he couldn't deny genetics.

He let out a long sigh, emptied his body of air, of all feelings.

Alone on the cold, hard floor he listened as August turned into September, and for the first time in four months he wished he hadn't carried his belongings out of his old room, that he hadn't moved out, for nothing had changed about the way he felt about Matt, _nothing_, and tonight he missed him more than ever.

And just then, there was a knock on the door.

* * *

**Want to know what happens next? Write a review, because that inspires me to continue.**


	10. Melting into Shadows

**Well, fuck me if I don't get any reviews for this chapter. Might as well quit writing, for this is obviously shit.**

**Oh - and there's a lot of sex and cursing in this chapter so if you're not into that, then go away.**

* * *

"Mels, come on, I know you're in there."

Matt's words through the door made Mello force himself to sit up, to crawl to the door. He leaned his forehead to it, almost feeling Matt on the other side, leaning back at him.

"Yeah, I'm here."

"You missed dinner."

"That was five hours ago."

"Still. Would've sneaked up here sooner if I could've."

"Please." Mello rolled his eyes. "Don't tell me you are _worried _for me. I hardly need you to be my-"

He stopped mid sentence, bit his lip.

Yeah, he hardly needed Matt to be his mom or dad - for he had learnt parents were no good anyways. But he needed Matt to be everything, _everything_ else for him. And that was the one thing he couldn't say.

"Open the door, will you?" Matt asked. "It's fricking cold in here."

"No, it's not. Just wait for the winter." Mello replied, but got up nevertheless, ignoring the fact that his bare feet were actually so cold he hardly felt them

He opened the door. Matt was sitting on the floor of the hallway, but got up now as well. He was fully dressed, shoes and a jacket over his jeans and T-shirt. He had left his silly goggles, and his red hair fell to his forehead, his green eyes partly hidden by it. Mello's heart skipped a few beats at the sight of him.

Yeah, they had seen eachother in the classes every day, in the dining room and other activities. But since Mello had made the decision to move out and drag his belongings into an abandoned room at the attic, he had done all he could not to spend time alone with Matt. It hadn't helped though. Now that he saw Matt, standing there in front of him, he felt like the floor under his feet disappeared and he fell into a black pit, his head spinning, air leaving his lungs.

He had to look away, to be able to bear it.

"Why are you here?" he asked. "It's past midnight."

Matt was silent for a while, and the silence told Mello all he needed to know. That Matt had remembered what day it was. That it was the anniversary of the day he had shot the Dragon. That's why he had come, and for no other reason.

So that Mello didn't have to be alone tonight.

But Matt just gave a small, sideways smile, and pushed his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

"Wanna sneak out?" he asked "I've got some smokes and whiskey."

"Where did you get those?" Mello glanced at Matt.

He shrugged. "You know."

"No, I don't actually, but whatever. And I'm not coming."

"Come on. Your room is ridiculously depressing - and _cold_. I don't even know how that's possible in August. The night is fucking gorgeous and I'm sneaking out, so you'd better join me and stop being a whiny asshole."

Mello raised an eyebrow.

"A whiny asshole?"

"Yeah. A _cranky_, whiny asshole."

"Gee, thanks." Mello snapped, and grabbed the door to slam it to Matt's face, but Matt was faster and pushed himself in the gap to stop him.

"Hey! I'm sick and tired of being pushed away because you're having some hard time. This is a fucking orphanage! We _all_ have hard time. It doesn't justify you being a dick."

"Maybe that's just how I was built." Mello said, but gave up with the door.

Matt leaned closer to him, so close Mello could smell his scent of fresh grass and peppermint toothpaste in the air.

"See, I don't believe that."

"Then you're the one who's stupid, not me."

"Neither of us is stupid." Matt said, suddenly with a smile. "We have test results to prove that. Doesn't mean we're not nuts, though."

Mello was silent for a few heartbeats, just drawing in the fact that Matt was here, that _he was really here_. And he wasn't leaving, even if Mello _was_ being a dick.

"I missed you." he finally said, and saying it out loud wasn't even hard.

"Missed you too, bro." Matt said, with a grin. "Now, let's get the fuck out of here."

* * *

They sat on a small hill, some half a mile from Wammy's house.

Matt had been right - the night was gorgeous. It had the freshness of nearing autumn in it, the wind was cool but not cold, and it was dark, so dark that Mello could feel himself melting into shadows as they sat down under a large oak tree.

Matt was smoking a cigarette - God knew where he'd managed to get those - and savoring every breath as it was something amazing.

Mello had tried smoking once, with Matt of course, and hated it. There was no way he was going to try it again, but in some weird way he enjoyed watching Matt doing it. Matt's slender fingers that held the cigarette, his lips that sucked on it, the way he inhaled the smoke and held it inside of his lungs for a couple of heartbeats, before releasing it, before letting it escape into the night.

"Want some?" Matt asked, offering him his own cigarette.

Mello shook his head. "You know I don't."

"That's just weird shit, man." Matt let out a low chuckle. "What's there not to like?"

Mello didn't answer. Just sitting with Matt here made him restless, like there were ants in his pants and lava in his gut, and the thought of tasting the same cigarette Matt had held on his lips, was enough to make him high headed.

The good thing was, that he wasn't thinking about the Dragon anymore. Which had been Matt's purpose all along, no doubt.

"You said you had whiskey." Mello stated.

Matt smirked.

"And I thought you didn't like that either."

"Maybe I will this time."

Matt dug out a bottle from his backpack, and tossed it to Mello.

"It's supposed to be good shit." he said. "Paid some big money to get that."

"You've never had any big money." Mello snapped. "Besides, no one drinks whiskey for the taste, I hear."

"Then let's drink some to get waisted, huh?"

Mello didn't answer, just opened the bottle and took a long swig. He almost choke to it, coughed half of it all over his shirt, but managed to swallow at least some, for he felt the booze burning all the way down to his stomach.

"Shit!" he cursed. "Fuck-!"

Matt was laughing. He had stumped his cigarette on the ground, and reached for the bottle.

"Wussy." he said, and took a gulp without even wincing.

"Fuck." Mello said again, as much to himself as to Matt. "That shit is disgusting."

"Want more?"

He took the bottle. "Hell, yes."

And he drank, just to taste Matt's lips that had touched this bottle seconds before his. It was almost like kissing Matt, not quite, but almost - enough to make him shiver to his spine.

Maybe it was the whiskey. Maybe it was just the fact that Matt was here - and let's be honest, he had missed him more than he had ever missed anything in his life - but whatever the reason, Mello suddenly felt brave.

What the fuck had he feared for?

For wasn't everything he had ever hoped for in this moment? In this night, in these shadows, in the way the whiskey burnt his lips, in the beating of his heart.

Matt was lying down on the grass now, smoking another cigarette and staring at the sky, at the stars and the constellations that were a million light years away. His hair fell around his face like the mane of a lion, and Mello had never seen him more beautiful than he was now.

He would've watched Matt for an eternity like this.

"You think L is going to catch Kira?" Matt said out of the blue, turning his gaze at Mello.

"I'm sure of it."

"And what if he doesn't?"

Mello frowned, took another few sips of whiskey.

"Of course he will. He is the best. If he can't do it, then-"

"Then it'll fall on _you _to do it."

"Or Near." Mello snapped. "We might as well be honest here."

"So, you haven't heard from L or Watari still? They haven't announced which one of you will be L's heir if-"

"Don't say that." Mello interrupted Matt. "L's going to win. He always does."

"Yeah, I guess so." Matt sighed. "Just wondering-"

"Well, don't."

Matt rolled to his side and reached for the bottle. Mello passed it to him, and watched as Matt gulped whiskey as if it was water, and even that, the line of his mouth, the way he lifted the bottle to drink, made Mello feel like he was losing the grip of reality.

He lay down on the grass too, not caring that the grass was moist of dew, and took the bottle from Matt, screwed the cork back on and tossed the bottle away. He was drunk already, after the few gulps he had managed to drink, the whisky had went straight to his bloodstream and to his head. He felt dizzy - but maybe it wasn't whisky at all, maybe it was Matt.

"Matt, I-" he began, but Matt interrupted him by reaching out to him, laying his hands on Mello's chest, on his shoulders, and even through all his clothes Mello felt them burning on his skin.

"I fucking hate you." Matt breathed, but his hands said the opposite. They were in his hair now, and Matt rolled even closer, so that he was half on top of Mello now, his weight on Mello's chest and it was the sweetest feeling, it melted something in Mello, in his heart, in his gut, in his brain.

"Why do you hate me?"

"For fucking moving out of our room."

Matt's breathing was on his lips now, so warm, tasting of cigarette smoke, and Mello's mouth watered.

"I had to."

He was shivering now, and he couldn't help it, he let his hands find Matt, Matt's jacket, his fingers gripping to the fabric like he would die if he let go, and maybe that was what would really happen.

"Yeah, I know." Matt breathed, and kissed him.

Mello's brain exploded as their lips met.

Matt's fingers dug deep into his hair, gripped it hard so that it hurt. Their mouths crashed together, almost violent, teeth scraping, tongues entwining. Matt tasted of cigarettes and whiskey and peppermint toothpaste and the taste went straight into Mello's bloodstream, straight into his gut and he groaned.

Matt pushed him down against the ground with his body, pinning Mello under him, and Mello knew he couldn't get up even if he wanted to. Not that he wanted to. He felt surrender, submission - deeper than he had ever thought possible - he felt belonging. He opened his lips to Matt, for his tongue to find his own, for his lips to taste his, and he had never felt like this, he didn't even recognize what it was that he wanted, but it burnt in him like lava and left him panting.

Mello slid his hands under Matt's jacket, under his shirt. The skin of Matt's back was smooth and warm, hot under his touch, and he was shivering too.

It was perfect. Everything was so fucking perfect it hurt.

Matt broke the kiss. Looking him deep in the eye, Mello saw even in the dark, his dilated pupils, his own reflection in them.

"You still hate me?" he asked.

Matt grinned.

"Take a guess."

"You should."

"Why are you so fucking grim?" Matt sighed. "I just kissed the shit out of you."

"And I wish you'd keep on doing that."

"I would've been doing that for the past four months, had you not ditched me."

"You don't understand. I had to do that."

"So you keep saying."

Mello's hands were still under Matt's shirt, feeling his back, feeling the waistband of his jeans, and he wanted nothing more than to pull Matt closer, to feel his whole body on top of his own, to have Matt _so close_ to himself that they'd become one.

The only problem was, he had no fucking idea how that was supposed to happen. In the biology textbooks they only talked about hetero sex, and Mello was pretty sure it didn't work like that for the two of them.

Matt leaned closer again, his lips brushing Mello's like he just couldn't get enough of Mello's taste. And Mello opened his lips, let Matt's tongue enter his mouth like it was meant to be. Their legs entwined, Matt pushed his hips against Mello's and the sweet aching inside his gut, that Mello couldn't name, turned into straight forward burning in his groin. He felt going hard in his pants, and he was sure Matt felt it too.

"Mel- Mels-" Matt moaned into the kiss, his breathing hot. "-fuck!"

Mello groaned. He felt Matt's lips on his neck now, nibbling his skin, tasting it, licking it like he was candy that Matt was eating, and it was too damn hot for him to even think about. He let his hands push Matt's jacket off, and his T-shirt too, revealing Matt's bare upper body to the night, to the dark sky and the stars and Matt was more beautiful than all of them combined.

"Oh-!" Mello gasped. "Oh, Christ-"

Matt's only response was a wordless moan that Mello felt as a shiver on his skin. Matt had began to move himself on top of Mello, rubbing his hips against Mello's and he felt clearly the hard bulge in Matt's pants, pressing against him in the best way. He couldn't help it. His body answered Matt's movement, his hips swayed under Matt, his fingers gripped hard on Matt's waist, on his hip bones, pulled him closer - and Matt's lips were back on his, sucking his lower lip into his mouth, and Mello was lost.

Fuck the biology textbooks.

Fuck heteronormative sex.

Fuck sex - all of it!

Mello didn't know what it was that they were doing, but damn, even if he had no words for it, it felt so good that he couldn't have stopped no matter what. He let Matt push him down, he let Matt kiss him hard, he let Matt rub his dick against his own - no matter that there were two layers of jeans between them - until finally Matt groaned, and stiffened on top of him, and-.

"Fuck, Mels, fuck, I-!"

Mello buried his fingers in Matt's red hair, and pulled him back into the kiss. He held Matt's face in his hands as Matt came, drank his groans and his sighs as if they were whiskey, and they went to his bloodstream.

When it was over, Matt fell on top of him. He was breathing hard, his chest heaving, and Mello felt his own shallow breaths, the lust that was still choking his windpipe. He held Matt close, in awe of what had just happened - breathing in Matt's scent. He let it fill him. The cigarette smoke. The whiskey. The toothpaste. The salt. Against his hip he felt something warm, something wet, even through his clothes - but it wasn't grose at all. It was amazing.

"Shit." Matt groaned. "Mels, fuck. That was…"

"Yeah."

"Fucking awesome."

With that, Matt sat up, releasing himself from Mello's arms. His bare upper body glistened with sweat in the night, and it was white in the pale moonlight. It was the most beautiful thing Mello had ever seen. Matt's gaze glided on Mello, who was still lying on the grass, his blond hair a mess around his pale face, his worn black shirt all crumpled and stained - and stopped on Mello's crotch. Matt bit his lip, seeming undecided, even embarrassed.

Mello felt blushing. He knew Matt could see the bulge in his pants, his hard on through his tight, black jeans. Now, suddenly, it made Mello ashamed.

"Dude, you want me to-?" Matt asked, and gestured towards Mello's dick.

Mello wasn't sure what he meant. Did he want Matt to touch him? Did he want Matt to continue what they had been doing? To maybe… kiss him there?

_Hell, yes!_

But still, Mello shook his head.

"No, I'm good."

"You sure?"

"I said I was good."

And that was true. He was good. Actually, this was the best he had ever been.

He struggled to sit up, feeling stiff, and dizzy of whiskey and Matt. The night was in Matt's eyes, and it made Mello feel weak in his chest.

"I think… I think we'd better head back at the house." he said.

Matt sat back, reached for his T-shirt and pulled it back on.

"Why?"

Mello shrugged. Meeting Matt's eyes felt suddenly hard, and they fell into a silence.

"I'm sorry." Matt said after a while. "If I fucked everything up. I just.. I just wanted to-"

"Shut up. You didn't fuck anything up."

"Well, I fucked you - kinda."

"You sorry about that?"

Matt smiled, made a small laugh. "Not a bit."

"That's why you came to my room?" Mello asked. "To…whatever."

Suddenly Matt went serious, his smile disappearing. "I just… I didn't want you to be alone tonight."

Mello was silent for a long while after that. The heat was leaving his body, and he felt shivering. The night was actually pretty cold. Matt had lit another cigarette, and the burning top was a red star in the black universe.

"So, you remembered?" Mello asked. "What day it was."

"Shit. Of course I remembered." Matt gave a small smile, exhaled some smoke. "I knew you'd be moping around miserable, like a girl, without me."

"Fuck you." Mello chuckled. "I wasn't"

"You totally were."

"Fuck off."

"Bet you were crying too. On the floor, probably."

Mello reached to smack Matt in the shoulder, not too gently.

"That's it. I'm leaving."

He got up, brushed the grass of his jeans and turned to walk away without looking back. But he heard as Matt got up too, and followed him. Just as it was supposed to be.

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**Now, seriously, let me know what you thought. Prettypleeease?**


	11. Mariana Trench

**I'm pretty sure no one reads these author's babbles, but here we go anyways. :/ I'm soo happy with this chapter. I feel this kind of a flow now, that whenever I open my laptop and lay my fingers on the keyboard, the words just keep coming to me. The biggest thanks for this chapter goes to lovely TroMin, for writing so many reviews! Also the idea to try Matt's POV came from one of those reviews. Hope you all like it!**

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"Move back into our room."

"No."

"Come on, Mels."

"No. Shut up."

"I know you want to."

"Do not."

"Want too."

"Fuck, can't you shut up for one second?"

Mello slammed the book he'd been trying to read, giving Matt a furious stare.

They were in one of the study rooms in Wammy's house - kind of a small library. Mello was trying to study for a test that would be tomorrow - human biology, ironically - and Matt was doing all he could, to stop Mello from learning anything.

"You know that when I moved out, I went to ask for a room of my own from Roger, and he refused." Mello said.

"Yeah, I gathered."

"And I didn't let that stop me."

"Sounds like you."

"I climbed to the damn attic to find a room that was so lousy no one would even think of living in it, dragged all my stuff there and fucking slept on the floor for two weeks before Roger gave in and sent a bed for me. You knew that?"

"Dude, you slept on the floor?" Matt laughed. "You're a fucking lunatic!"

"Perhaps I am." Mello leaned over the table closer to Matt. "You know why I did all that, dickhead?"

"To get rid of me, apparently. Though for the love of God, I don't get why."

"You know nothing of the love of God." Mello muttered, now rather annoyed.

"'t'was just a figure of speech."

"This."

"This what?"

"_This_. This is exactly why I ditched you."

"Because I don't know the love of God? Shit, does that make me a sinner? A pagan? I kinda like the sound of that. Sounds kinky." Matt grinned on that way that always made Mello weak on the knees, but at the moment he absolutely hated it.

"BECAUSE I CAN'T FUCKING CONCENTRATE WHEN YOU'RE AROUND!"

"Geez, can you shout a bit louder." Matt rolled his eyes. "I don't think Linda and Annie in the next room heard you."

"Oh, we heard you." said a girl's voice. "Even before Mello was shouting."

And another added: "Yeah, take your relationship drama somewhere else, please - we are trying to study."

"_I_ am trying to study!" Mello stood up, and grabbed his book. "And this is NOT a relationship! Does no one get that?! Fuck!"

"Come on, Mels-"

"Don't call me Mels!" Mello snapped, not turning to look back as he walked out of the room. "I fucking hate it."

* * *

For Matt's benefit, it is fair to tell, that he did let Mello study after that. For at least 45 minutes, which - for a kid with ADHD - was a bloody eternity. He only went to knock on Mello's door after he had played three rounds of his favourite game, two rounds of another, spent at least 10 minutes of hacking into super secret government databases founding nothing of interest, sneaked into kitchen to steal a can of coke and drink it, broken into the laundry room and stolen some girls bra just for the fun of it, played a couple of rounds of poker in internet (strictly forbidden in Wammy's) and gaining 435 pounds in it (which he had no way of claiming for he had used a fake identity).

When he stood in the hallway, waiting for Mello to open the door, he felt like the argument had happened in another lifetime.

Mello, judging by his face as he opened the door, didn't share the feeling.

"I won 435 pounds for you." Matt said. "Sorry I was a dick, btw."

"Poker?"

"Hell yeah. You know, we'd be millionaires if Roger would actually let me play. You know. Play as me."

Mello gave a sigh, and tilted his head, taking a long, stern look at him.

"Fine, come on in."

Matt did as he was told, and shut the door behind him, glancing around.

He had only been in Mello's attic room a couple of times before. Not once during their four months of 'break up' as he called it, and not that many times during these past few weeks since their 'hook up' either. The room looked something like a cell of a monastery - there was hardly anything in it, except for Mello's simple bed, a crucifix on the wall (Matt fought hard not to make fun of the tortured Jesus on it) and huge piles of books and notebooks everywhere. There wasn't even a carpet on the floor, just the wooden planks.

"I'm not going to talk about decorating, dude-" Matt said. "-because that's just too gay for me. But seriously, you should decorate."

"Something's too gay for you?" Mello said, sitting down on the floor, leaning his back on the wall. "Wouldn't have thought."

"That wasn't the point."

"I'm not going to get a fucking pink curtain or flowered carpet just for you to embrace your gayness."

"Like I'd need that shit! You've seen anything pink in my room?" Matt asked, sitting down too - as close to Mello as he felt the other boy would tolerate today. It was always kind of hard to tell.

"So it is your room now, not ours?"

"Thought that was the way you wanted it."

"Yeah, it is." Mello said, turning his piercing, blue gaze at Matt. "I'm glad we're on the same page now."

"I don't have a fucking idea what page that is, but whatever."

Mello smiled to that, leaned the back of his head on the wall - and Matt loved to see that smile on his lips. The things he would do to get Mello to smile - he still hadn't found his limit.

"Seriously, though." he continued. "Why would you live in this shithole anymore? Roger would totally let you move back."

"It's not about Roger."

"And who cares what those dumb chicks say, either."

"What, Linda and Annie?"

"Yeah."

"I don't give a shit about them."

"Then what is it?"

Mello didn't answer, just turned his gaze away from Matt. The silence that followed wasn't to Matt's liking. He didn't deal well with silences, at least if he couldn't have a game in his hands, or something else to fidget with. And now, more than ever, for he was afraid that any silence between the two of them, could lead into another four month break up.

He'd eat his goggles before he let Mello out of his life again!

"Come on, talk to me, Mels." he pleaded with a smile.

But Mello let out an exasperated sigh. "Can't you just, please, leave me in peace?"

"I left you in peace for four months, asshole. Been there, done that."

Mello bent his head, his shoulders sagging. His beautiful, golden, polka hair fell to his eyes, he drew his knees to his chest.

"You said it yourself, Matt. Out, on the hill, the night we-"

"Oh. _That_ night."

"Yeah."

Matt was silent for a few heartbeats.

"Sorry, but I have hard time remembering anything we _talked_ about that night."

"Dick."

"Yeah, that's what I remember too. Dick. Or dicks, in plural."

"You're an idiot, you know that, right?" Mello snarled. "Fine, I'll refresh your memory. You said that it'll fall on me to be L's heir, if he can't win Kira."

"Oh." Matt said.

"Yeah. And that's why-"

"That's why you can't be with me?"

"It's not that I can't be with you. But I can't… _be_ with you. Not like you'd want to. Not all the time."

"So… basically you're ditching me for Kira?"

"Fuck off, Matt." but Mello couldn't suppress his smile.

"Fine, fine, I get it. You can't move back to our room, because I'm so hot, that would make you my willing sex slave and you'd have no time to study anymore."

Mello stared at Matt for a couple of heartbeats before answering.

"Yeah, 'cause that's _exactly_ what I said."

"That's pretty much what you said."

"Shut up."

"_You_ can shut me up." Matt said, and leaned closer to Mello. "You know how."

But Mello turned his head away, and Matt gave up. He knew better than to push Mello, when he was being like this.

"So." he said, after a few seconds of awkward silence. "I take it, you don't wanna be my sex slave."

He had meant it as a joke, but Mello reacted instantly. He was in his feet in a heartbeat, and walked to the other side of the room, as far as Matt as he could. He leaned to the window frames, turned his back at Matt. The silence seemed to last forever.

"You know I'm not really an idiot, right?" Matt finally asked, after a small eternity. "I have a genius-level IQ as well."

"I know."

"Just bringing it up, 'cause I can tell you're hiding something. What is it you're not telling me?"

Mello's shoulders stiffened, his posture went tense.

"It would hardly be a secret if I told you."

"Why do there need to be secrets? That's just lame."

This time Mello span around, his ice blue eyes piercing Matt's.

"And would you really have me any other way, Matt?"

"I'm not really having you as it is."

That made Mello freeze. He didn't reply anything, and for a moment Matt thought maybe he had really fucked it up this time, maybe he had said too much. But then, something in Mello seemed to unwind, soften. The ice blue of his eyes melted.

He still didn't say anything, though, just let go of the window frame and silently walked to Matt. He was so goddamned pretty it took Matt's breath away - the slenderness of his limbs, his narrow hips, the blond polka hair that was just the perfect mix of gold and silver. His black clothes were new, now the sleeves didn't leave his wrists bare anymore, the simple pants weren't too short or too tight, instead they hang loosely on Mello's thin frame. The rosary Matt knew, Mello always carried with him, was hidden under his shirt.

Matt wanted to peel off Mello's shirt to see his arms, his chest, the rosary hanging on his bare skin. He wanted it so bad, that just the thought of it made him hard in his pants.

Mello walked to him slowly, and sat on his lap, straddled him. Just feeling Mello's thighs both sides of his own made Matt's brain overheat and he was pretty sure there was smoke puffing out of his ears, but Mello didn't seem to notice. And if Mello realized Matt was having a hard on of the century in his jeans, he didn't comment that either.

He just laid his cool, slender fingers on Matt's chest, on his shoulders, gently, barely touching him. Matt resisted the urge to grab Mello's hips hard, to bury his fingers deep into Mello's thighs. There was something so real about the way Mello was looking him in the eye now, something raw, almost fragile. Matt knew he was the only person in the whole fucking world to see this Mello, to _know_ this Mello - no matter how many secrets he was keeping - and he sure as Hell didn't want to do anything, that would fuck up this moment.

For Mello leaned in, and his lips were on Matt's and it was so fucking amazing that Matt could hardly breath.

He brought his hands into Mello's hair, buried his fingers into the silky strands.

It felt like it lasted for an eternity - or just a heartbeat. It was gentle, it was slow, it was deep and hesitant and weird and wonderful and nothing like the almost violent, lusty kisses they had shared on the hill under the oak tree.

By the time Mello broke the kiss, Matt was high headed and his heart felt like it was trying to escape his chest by climbing out of his mouth.

"Damn, Mels-" he breathed, his voice thick in his throat. "-fuck, you can kiss!"

"I know." Mello said, as if it was obvious. His dilated pupils seemed to fill his ice blue irises, and Matt felt like falling into them. He was burning, the erection so hard in his pants, it was agonizing.

"Mello, I wanna-" he started, his hands finding Mello's waist, the line of his hips. "I want to touch you. I-"

"I have a test tomorrow, and so do you."

"Fuck the test!" Matt groaned. "I fucking want you!"

"Yes. I noticed." Mello replied, and freed himself from Matt's grisp. He stood up, leaving Matt desperate on the floor.

"Oh, come on!"

"I'm being serious Matt. I can't afford to fool around with you like this. I have a test, and you almost made me forget about it. To forget about all the things, that matter to me the most. I can't… I can't let myself slip like this." a short silence. "I need you to go. Now."

Matt banged the back of his head to the wall and groaned. He glanced at Mello, who was now standing on the other side of the room, leaning on the opposite wall. He looked cool, collected, but Matt noticed the burning of his cheeks to know better.

"I guess this means you're not moving back?"

"I'm not."

"But we can still make out, right?"

"We might." said Mello. "Now, go."

And Matt did. It felt like such a natural instinct, to just do what Mello told him to do.

But as he walked down the narrow staircase and the long hallways, his mind kept replaying the stuff that had happened.

The kiss. Mello's hands on his chest, the taste of chocolate, the scent of Mello's hair that was a mindblowing mix of salt and steel. Mello's weight on his lap and the feeling that surged through Matt's core as Mello leaned close and pressed his mouth on his own.

_Fuck, that guy is hot!_

_Can't believe we're really doing this shit!_

Matt refused to let his mind dwell on Mello sending him away - or the fact that he had admitted there were secrets he hadn't told Matt.

He totally got it. This thing with Kira and L - Matt had seen it growing on Mello's shoulders these past months, like a big, black cloud - suffocating everything else.

No wonder Mello was tense. That he was tired. That he was scared.

Besides, Matt knew he could be an annoying dick. He felt bad about it, truly, but he really couldn't help it. So maybe Mello was right not to move back in. If he needed his peace and his silence, then so be it. Matt knew he could wait.

Unlike Mello, he had known he was gay since the age of eleven.

And Unlike Mello, Matt could hack any computer there was, and so he had. He knew that internet was an ocean of gay porn, and boy, had he swum in it. Hell, he had _dived _in it! He had submerged himself to the bottom of the Mariana Trench of gay porn. So, it was pretty fair to say that Matt knew all the ways there were, for a guy to fuck another guy, and he wanted - no, he _needed - _so badly to try them all with Mello.

But if Mello wasn't ready, Mello wasn't ready. No way Matt was going to push him. No matter how much he had to jerk off in the bathroom, thinking about Mels and all the stuff he had seen in his personal Mariana Trench, so be it.

It wasn't like he was gonna lose Mello this time.

If only had he known, that two months later, Mello would disappear.

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**And guys, come on - my flow is known to disappear if I don't get any reviews... So kinda begging here. If you want to read more, let me know. Thanks.**


	12. Shattered glass

**Ah, I have such a drive to write! I only wish I had more time to do it. Why does one have to have a job or a family? Why cannot I just isolate myself in a room with a laptop and a ton of chocolate, to write fanfic for the rest of my days?**

**Oh, and I should probably tell you guys, that if you haven't read my other Death Note fic "More than just cake", then you have no idea who is Fay, who's mentioned in this chapter. To put it short, she's a girl who grew up in Wammy's house and falls in love with L. She will appear in this fic too, because I have an obsession to keep all my fanfics and their timelines connected, like they could've really happened. **

**Anyways, enjoy. And come on, review. I get so damn depressed when no one tells me what they thought...**

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"Matt… Mello. Do you have any idea why I have asked you here?"

Here, being Roger's office. All dark, oak furniture, old books, the smell of paper and ink, leather and cotton. All English manor and countryside and shit like that, all shit that Matt hated. But maybe it wasn't the decor, maybe it was just the fact he knew he was in trouble.

Not that he cared that much, but still. He would've gladly spent this time doing anything else than sitting here, inhaling the scent of old books, the cold, wooden seat under him making him restless.

"It's hardly the first time we were summoned." noted Mello rather cockily. "And I have sensed a pattern here. We have broken some rule, a rule that was so _stupid_ it was bound to be broken, and now you are about to scold us for it."

"Mello, even if you were right, that attitude-"

"Is not helping me at all? I gathered you were going to say it." Mello shrugged, was silent for a moment. His icy stare didn't even flinch, it was focused on Roger, and any lesser man would have yielded in front of it - but not Roger.

"Any chance of getting Watari do this?" Mello inquired. "Maybe through a skype call, or-"

"I'm afraid that is impossible." Roger replied. "You know that he is with L, and cannot spare his time or focus on the matters of Wammy's house now."

"Oh, I am aware." Mello replied. "And I am guessing, you still cannot tell me any news of their situation?"

"That is not my place." the old man stated. "And now you are avoiding the subject, Mello."

A crooked smile played on Mello's lips, as he leaned back in his chair, not a little bit scared or nervous - or at least he wanted it to look that way. And Matt knew, it wasn't just a facade. He knew Mello was the jewel of this house, he was the heir, he was the boy genius who would have inherited it all if it wasn't for Near. But even with Near, Mello was too valuable for Wammy's house to lose. He would have to break some major rules to be kicked out. With Matt, it wasn't really so. He knew he was replaceable.

"Right." Mello gave a sigh, rolled his eyes. "I _apologize_ Roger, please let us know of what we are accused of this time."

"Matt. Do you have anything you would like to confess?" Roger turned his grey eyes at Matt, and suddenly he felt uncomfortable.

A list of all the things he had done, that he knew to be against the rules in just these past few hours, quickly flashed through his mind. There was no way he would confess them all.

Fuck. If only he knew what it was, that Roger knew! Was it the whiskey? It had been stolen from Watari's room - a mistake, that one, a sloppy mistake, really. Or was it the smokes? A cook had left them on the side table in the kitchen, and Matt's fingers hadn't been able to resist the temptation to snatch them. Or maybe it was the bra. It had to be the bra he had stolen. Shit. Such a stupid thing to have done, and just to ease his boredom.

Matt cursed inwardly. He sure as Hell hoped, this wasn't about playing poker. Damn, if it was the poker! He really, _really_ couldn't bear if Roger confiscated his computer! Where would he watch gay porn, then? Just the idea was appalling, but then again, he knew Roger hardly would do that, for they were supposed to be training Matt to be a super hacker or something like that (though Matt did most of the training himself anyways), and it wouldn't be possible without a computer.

These thoughts flashed through Matt's mind in a nanosecond, but he hid them behind the mellow mask he wore so well. The mask of a boy who just couldn't give a shit about anything.

He decided to go with the bra. That was the safest option, probably.

"Matt…?" Roger asked again. "You know what I am talking about, don't you?"

"Fine." Matt sighed, resigned. From the corner of his eye, he noticed Mello giving him a glance with a hint of worry, but he didn't turn back to look at him. "I've still got it. I haven't done anything with it, I swear."

Roger's eyebrows rose and he leaned on the table with his elbows.

"You have it?" he asked. "Then please, give it to me."

Matt stuffed his hand into the back pocket of his loose jeans and pulled out the pink bra with Hello Kitty faces. A ridiculous thing. He'd had some plans on how to use it (and not for kinky gay stuff, obviously, but to embarrass some girl and have a laugh at it), but whatever. It was easier to give up, than to hear lectures for the rest of the day.

"Here. I snatched it from the laundry room yesterday. Sorry, it just kinda happened."

"Matt. These things don't just happen. You do them, on purpose. This is hardly the first time you are caught stealing other people's belongings. What is this about? It is not like you are in need of this particular piece of clothing, is it?"

Roger's voice was soft and patient, as always. Matt had never heard him shouting, not ever. The man was a saint - but he would have to be, Matt guessed, for if wasn't, he wouldn't have lasted a day in this place. Super intelligent kids were a super pain in the ass.

"Nah, I don't need it." he shrugged. "Was gonna return it, eventually."

"Yes, I imagine so. In some rude and non subtle way, that would have been extremely hurtful for the young lady who owns this garment."

"Maybe. But what's the big deal, really. I gave it back, I said I was sorry. End of story. Right?"

"Actually…" Roger said, and just from the tone of his voice Matt could tell this meeting was far from over. That this wasn't about the bra, and had revealed it for no reason, and now had lost it (and the fun he could have had with it too) for nothing.

_Shit, I should've confessed the smokes. At least that pack was empty._

"That's enough." Mello's voice cut in. "Tell us why we are here, and let's get it over and done with. I have better things to do with my time, than to listen to Matt's babbling of stolen underwear."

Mello's voice was silent but clear, and it lacked all softness. It was like a dagger, sharp steel that cut the silence in shreds. When Mello used that tone, Matt felt it in his spine, in his ribs, as if he was the one being sliced. He didn't know anyone who was able to bear it without being scared shitless.

But Roger, apparently, wasn't easily scared.

"Alright." he said, still with the soft, tired voice. "I shall get to the point then. Are you two boys... having a relationship?"

Matt's gut froze.

_Shit, this is bad. This can get us into a shitload of trouble. I should've just told him about the damn porn! At least then, I only would've lost my computer. Now I could… I could lose everything._

"No." said Mello, keeping his cool. "Unless you count friendship as a relationship."

"You know very well that is not what I meant. And I wouldn't be asking this of you, unless I hadn't heard some deeply unsettling things from some other students."

"Annie and Linda?" Matt spat out. "Those damn chicks are just mad because we made noise in the study room!"

"This is not about that. Even if I am sad to hear that you've done that too. Mello, at least you should know better, than to make disturbance in a silent room." Roger said, and took off his glasses, to clean them. Matt couldn't help but to think he did that just to play time, to think how he would address the matter that clearly was making him uncomfortable. Watching Rogers wavering felt like Matt's gut was tied into a knot.

"I do not know how to ask you, so I am asking you straight." a short silence. Roger looked at Matt, then at Mello, and gave a sigh. "Are you… homosexual?"

"No. I am not gay. And I'm offended that you would think that, frankly." said Mello, very clearly. His words pierced Matt's heart like a spear, and for a moment he felt like he could not breath.

Suffocating, Matt glanced at Mello, but his eyes were again pure ice, cold and impenetrable. A mirror that revealed nothing.

"Well, I am. I'm so fucking gay you couldn't get any gayer if you bathed in rainbows." Matt declared, surprised that his voice wasn't even shaking. "But clearly, we are not in a relationship, for Mello here _is not gay."_

"I see." Roger said, and didn't meet Matt's eyes.

"I'm sure you don't." Matt stated.

"Matt. Just because I'm old, does not mean I am ignorant, or that I do not understand-"

"But clearly that is just the case." said Mello. From the red spots on his cheekbones, Matt could tell he was angry, or emotional, not nearly as indifferent as he tried to look like. "This is purely homophobic and discriminating behaviour. You would _never_ be asking some student if they were heterosexual, or assume they have sexual relations because of that. Now, suddenly, you are accusing us of breaking that rule on the sole bases that Matt is gay, and that I look like a girl. This is fucking ridiculous."

"My assumption was not based solely on that." Roger simply said. "And please, mind your language, Mello."

"Then what was it based?" asked Matt. "If we are accused of something, I wanna know why."

"You two have been seen kissing. On the hallway, after the supper, two days ago."

_Shit!_

Matt cursed inwardly, and felt his cheeks redden without his will. He remembered that kiss, alright. It had been one of the only ones they had shared since their heated moment on the hill. It had been just a kiss, a quick one, but a passionate one. He had grabbed Mello's sleeve as they had been walking through the hall, pulled him behind the corner, pushed him against the wall and kissed him so that it had left them both breathless.

He had been sure no one had seen them, but apparently he had been wrong.

Someone _had_ seen them, and now they were in big trouble.

"Yeah, that…." he said. "Okay, it still doesn't mean we are in a relationship, right?"

"We, most certainly, are _not_ in a relationship." said Mello, and Matt felt like he had been punched in the face.

"Yup." he said, turning his eyes to Roger. "You heard him. Not a relationship. Just a kiss, between friends. Not a gay kiss, or a romantic kiss, or anything, just a-"

"-kiss. A fucking stupid try out. Nothing else." Mello ended the sentence for Matt, and something inside Matt's chest broke.

He felt it, like shattered glass, and it hurt like Hell with every, agonizing beat.

"Is this why you wanted a room of your own?" Roger asked then, turning his eyes to Mello.

"Hardly."

"You felt uncomfortable in the same room with a-"

"- a fag." Matt said. "You can just say it, it's not a dirty word, you know."

"-a person who perhaps had feelings for you." Roger continued. "And Matt, I shall never refer to you with that word."

"I am sure Matt has no special feelings for me." Mello replied, still with the ice cool voice. "And no, I did not want to move out because he is gay. I wanted to move out, because I have to concentrate on my studies."

"Alright." Roger said. "I believe you, if you said so. But still… you two have been seen kissing, and heard discussing your relationship in public, and this is behaviour that is, as you know, strictly forbidden in Wammy's house."

"Annie and Linda." Matt stated. "Those stupid hens. They're doing this because they hate my guts."

"Maybe they feel that way because stealing this underwear was hardly the first time you two have played mean pranks on those young ladies."

"That was Annie's bra?" Matt couldn't help a small laugh. "Or Linda's? Shit, I had no idea."

"Mind your language, Matt. Please."

"Roger, may I be frank with you?" Mello said then.

"You always are, with or without my permission."

"It is rather unfair to punish us for having one kiss, when I am aware that there has happened a ton of actual sex in this house, under your and Watari's noses, and no one ever got punished for that."

Roger paused for a moment, worried lines appeared on his forehead.

"I assure you, I have no knowledge of that."

"Really? Even if everyone else knew that Fay spent practically all her nights in L's room?"

"Oh, L…." Roger gave a silent sigh, shook his head. "Mello, you do not know of what you speak of. Nothing ever happened between the two of them. I know this for a fact."

"You can believe it if you want to, but everyone here knew that chick was madly in love with L, even if you didn't. Besides, she fucked at least Eric and Terra, to my knowledge. And there could've been more of them. Who knows, she was such a slut."

Mello's outburst left a silence in the room. Roger seemed appalled, and Matt found himself just staring at Mello.

L? Having sex with a girl? That thought was just hilarious in so many levels. Yes, L was amazing. Yes, he was their idol, a God-like figure they all admired more than anything or anyone. But he was not the kind of a guy who was interested in the things normal teenagers were. Yeah, Matt knew, that Fay had spent many nights in L's room, but he was sure - like Roger seemed to be - that it hadn't been about sex.

Though, he had never stopped to think what it _had_ been about.

But now L was off in Japan solving the biggest crime mystery of all times, and Fay had left Wammy's house four years ago, barely six months after Matt had first came here. So even if there had been sex, Matt couldn't have claimed to know a shit about it.

But apparently Mello knew. His eyes were piercing as daggers, his slender frame tense like a string.

"You let Fay slut her ass around, and did nothing about it, because she was so precious to L. That is the truth, I believe. And now, you are about to punish us for one kiss - _one kiss_ \- that didn't even mean a damn thing?!"

It took a moment for Roger to answer anything, and when he did, he seemed even more tired, even more resigned than before. He rubbed the worry line on his forehead, as if hoping it would disappear, but of course it didn't.

"Fay has not been here in a long time. And whatever happened between her and L… or between her and any other boy, is not of your concern."

"Just putting things in perspective here." Mello stated, and crossed his arms over his chest. "And please, if you're going to punish us, do it already. We have been here long enough."

Roger seemed very old and very tired, but still unaffected by Mello's mean tone. Mello had leaned back in his chair, but Roger leaned closer, over the desk. He looked at Mello with kind, gentle eyes, and Matt knew - he just knew, that Roger loved Mello and would never kick him out of here, no matter what.

By the looks of it, Mello knew that too. Which left only Matt uncertain of his position - which wasn't a cool feeling at all.

"I have no wish to punish you." Roger said, after a very long silence (that had almost been enough to fry Matt's nervous system). "I can only ask, that you stop the indecent behaviour. I can not tolerate sexual or romantic relationships under this roof. Am I making myself very clear?"

Roger turned his grey eyes to Matt, and raised his eyebrows.

"Yeah, all clear." Matt muttered. "No more innocent, totally unromantic and asexual friend kissing. All done with that."

"Mello?" Roger asked, turning his eyes to the blond boy instead.

"I have no interest in that, in whatsoever."

"Are we done?" Matt asked. "Can I leave now?"

He was sure that if he was forced to sit here any longer, he couldn't stop himself from saying or doing something irratical. He felt annoyed, and somehow betrayed - and his heart still felt like shattered glass inside of his chest.

He wanted to get the fuck out of Roger's office, as fast as possible. And preferably to drink all the rest of the whisky he still had hidden in his closet, for he was seriously pissed.

"Just one more thing."

"Okay?"

"Matt. You must stop taking things that aren't yours."

"Yeah, alright." Matt didn't meet Roger's eyes. "I will."

"Alright, you are dismissed. Try to behave, boys."

As soon as those words left Roger's lips, Matt was out of his chair and at the door. He didn't even look back, as he sprinted out of Roger's office, and even if had heard Mello calling after him, he wouldn't have stopped.

* * *

**Okay - how do you like this so far? Do you wish to read more of Matt's POV or should I go back to writing Mello?**


	13. Princess

**Here we go, another chapter.**

**Thank you for the reviews, my dear readers! They do mean so much to me.**

* * *

"So, you're not gay." Matt said and the look in his bright, green eyes killed Mello.

"No, I'm not."

They hang out in the garden - in plain view (but out of earshot), for Roger had made a point about the two of them not spending time in each other's rooms for now. It was a clear and cool September afternoon, and they had just finished classes for the day, but it wasn't yet dinnertime.

_Maybe I shouldn't have said a thing. _Mello thought, seeing how Matt's eyes narrowed, how his cheeks went pale. _Maybe secrets should just stay secrets. _

_Damn, I never should've let things get to this point at all!_

But in his gut Mello knew, he couldn't keep on lying. He could not justify it, not to himself or to Matt. Not even, if Matt's opening line had made Mello realize this was going to be one of those discussions you felt could only end in a gunshot.

"Sorry, I'm a bit confused here." Matt stated pointedly. "Did you not kiss me? Did you not have a hard on when I… when we did what we did on the hill?"

"Yes, I did kiss you. And yes, I did… have..." Fuck, why was it so hard to say that word out loud? Mello felt his cheeks burning. "But Matt, I… I don't know."

"It's a pretty simple question. Are you gay or are you not?"

"There is nothing simple in that question at all."

"I don't get it."

"I gathered so. That's why I didn't want to tell you."

Matt let out a laughter, but not a happy one, not one of those Mello loved, that made him weak in the knees. Now Matt's laughter was mean, sharp and cold. It hurt Mello more than he wanted to admit.

"Oh, so that's why you've been fucking avoiding me. Did you kiss me on the hill just because of the whiskey? Or what the fuck? Because I am seriously confused right now."

Mello was silent for a long while after that.

What the fuck was he going to say?

He knew there was no way Matt would understand. To Matt things were simple. They were black and white, salt or sugar, end of the story. To Mello, nothing had ever been simple. To him, everything was an endless ocean of doubt, questions and what-if's, his own nature more than anything.

He had only ever been certain of one thing. That he was capable of being the number one kid in Wammy's house, the rightful heir of L himself.

But Matt sat on the grass in front of him, east wind in his mane of red, undisciplined hair, freckles on his nose and his cheeks, and Mello felt losing his grip to reality.

Lately, he had had trouble sorting his priorities.

"When did you know you were gay?" he finally asked.

"I've kinda always known it?" Matt shrugged. "But I guess I was about eleven when I realized it. You know, everyone started to have crushes on girls, and I didn't… so."

"So you had crushes on boys?"

"Hell, yeah." Matt stated. "I had hots for Orlando Bloom! You know, in his Legolas outfit-"

"Spare me the details." Mello interrupted. "Just tell me, did you have a crush on me?"

Matt broke their eye contact, and fell silent for a moment.

"No, not you." he finally said. "With you… it was different. Dude, we were like brothers."

"And yet, you never told me you were gay."

"This wasn't a really gay friendly place, you know. And you never seemed to have any interest in that kind of stuff. I didn't... I didn't think it was important. To tell that, I mean. I didn't think it would change anything between us. Guess I was wrong, though."

And it was back, the dark undertone in Matt's voice. Mello shifted, he felt uncomfortable - as if Matt was blaming him.

"I didn't move out because you were gay." Mello said. "It wasn't about that."

"Fine. It just happened the day after you had kissed me, and I had told you that I was gay, so." He was silent for a moment, sulking. "But hey, it's good to know where we stand. You're not gay and our kisses were just 'a fucking stupid try out'."

"Matt. they weren't. They really weren't." Mello's voice almost broke on the last word. Fuck, he really didn't want to be having this conversation! But still, Matt staring at him, his green eyes narrowed and hurt, Mello knew he would have to.

No turning back now.

"You said you knew you were gay at the age of eleven." he finally said.

Matt shrugged.

"Yeah. So?"

"At that age I knew, I would never, ever have any interest in sex at all. I mean… I knew what it was, but I… I just thought it was grose, and boring and uninteresting. And I knew I would never do that. Never."

"That's not so odd, for a kid of eleven."

"But it hasn't changed, Matt. That is how I have always been. That is how i was _built_. I found out a term for it some time ago. Asexual. You know that word? I guess you would, since you live in the internet."

"Asexual." Matt stated. "So… Not gay, not straight, but… not, you know, anything?"

"That's not even a sentence, Matt." Mello rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, but… you're _not _asexual. You're not, because-"

"Because my body reacted to your touch?" Mello said. "Yeah, it did. And you know what? It's fucking killing me! You think this is all so fucking simple, so _amazing_ and that sex is just something awesome, and I know you _want_ it, and I- I can't-"

He couldn't help it, his voice got caught in the emotion, in his throat, and fuck - his eyes were tearing up.

_Fuck it, if I'm gonna cry! _Mello bit his lip and blinked his eyes furiously. He felt tense like a string, explosive.

"I don't know what the fuck is happening to me." he continued, after regaining his cool. "And yeah, it's freaking me out, so forgive me for needing some space!"

Matt was silent for a long while after that. He stretched his legs on the grass, his old and tattered jeans, his black boots that Mello was so used to. Matt's pose was relaxed, but he kept picking grass and fiddling it in his fingers on a way that told Mello that he was thinking.

"I don't care what you call yourself." Matt finally said and shrugged. "Asexual or whatever. And Yeah, I'll give you some space. All the space you need. But Mels—."

"Hmm?"

"I didn't have a crush on you." Matt noted. "Not before. Not before that night you had a nightmare and I sat on your bed and dude, you kissed me. _You _kissed _me."_

He paused for a moment, but Mello didn't say a thing. He couldn't.

"So, what I am saying-" Matt went on. "-is that this is basically your fault. You started this, so—"

"So?"

"So. You wouldn't have kissed me if you didn't have a thing for me."

And Matt gave a smile, a cocky grin suddenly wide on his perfect lips. When he smiled like this, the dimples on his cheeks showed, and it made Mello feel weak - suddenly hot all over.

_Asexual as shit. Yeah, dream on._

Mello winced to his inner voice, trying to shut it up. Even if he wasn't naturally asexual, he could still live like one, right? He could force himself back into that mindset, probably. If he just kept his distance from Matt, that would be enough to keep his shit together.

To stay focused. To beat Near.

To be number one.

"So sure of yourself, are you." Mello said, giving Matt a sideways glance.

The sun was in Matt's hair, making it glow like a red halo around his pale, freckled face. That sight took Mello's breath away, and he fucking hated feeling that way. But he loved it too, and if that wasn't messed up, he sure didn't know what was.

"The evidence is on my side." Matt grinned. "You can't make that shit up."

"What's with the deducting, are you the next L now?"

"Hell no." Matt laughed. "That's your job, princess."

Mello blinked a couple of times.

"Did you just call me princess?"

"Yup."

"You know, I should beat the shit out of you." Mello said. "I will, If you ever do that again."

But Matt just laughed, lay down on the grass, his hands behind his head.

"Sure thing, princess."

Sunlight danced in Matt's hair, his body relaxed on the grass and Mello could not stop his eyes as they glided on Matt's frame. His chest, the lean abdomen, the stripe of bare skin between the hem of his shirt and the waistband of his jeans - and Mello felt his breath getting caught in his throat. That boy was a work of art, damn it!

If Mello hadn't been 100% sure that Roger was keeping an eye on them, he would have crawled to Matt and kissed the shit out of him.


End file.
